


on the way down

by sharkfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (accidentally), Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, M/M, Wing Kink, Wings, Witches, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28940466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: “Oh my god. What the fuck, Cas.”The wings sprouting from Cas’s back flutter, maybe the same way his stomach does when he first catches sight of Dean after time apart. “I’m not sure,” he says, miserable. “I messed up a spell, and…”“You don’t know how to fix it.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 43
Kudos: 362





	on the way down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [localswampcrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/localswampcrow/gifts).



> thanks to oriana 
> 
> i lost control of what was supposed to be a ficlet from [this prompt list](https://sharkfish.tumblr.com/post/639950150930939904/prompt-list) ("shut up and let me think").
> 
>  **"we have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.”** vonnegut

As soon as it happens, Cas sends a text to Dean saying  _ Come over. Urgent.  _ He hopes the “urgent” is enough for Dean to know this isn’t the usual kind of  _ come over _ text they usually send between lessons, the kind that ends up with Dean gloriously naked under Cas’s hands. 

Dean doesn’t even text back, just barges into Cas’s place twenty minutes later. “Are you ok?” he asks, and then he sees. “Oh my god. What the fuck, Cas.” 

The wings sprouting from Cas’s back flutter, maybe the same way his stomach does when he first catches sight of Dean after time apart. “I’m not sure,” he says, miserable. “I messed up a spell, and…” 

“You don’t know how to fix it.” 

Cas looks down, feeling like an idiot, and nods. 

“Let me see the spell.” 

Cas pushes the book across the coffee table, still open to the one he was attempting. He tries not to blush, though it’s difficult when he’s admitting to owning the  _ Body Mod & Cosmetic Magic Manual.  _ Apparently he should’ve bought  _ Cosmetic Magic for Dummies.  _

Dean picks up the book, skims through the spell, looks up at Cas and raises an eyebrow. “You were trying to give yourself a tattoo?” 

Cas rolls his eyes. “You know it’s not a  _ tattoo.”  _

“Which part did you mess up?” Dean asks, looking back at the book. “We can reverse engineer from there, I think.” 

Cas can feel the wings droop along with his shoulders. “I don’t know. There was a flash, and then…” 

“Wings.” 

“Yes. Wings.” 

“What kind of tattoo were you trying to give yourself?” 

“A raven,” Cas says with a sigh. 

“Nevermore on the cosmetic bullshit, you doofus,” Dean says, but he’s smiling. “Now shut up and let me think.” 

Cas shuts up, but he can’t help but stare as Dean paces back and forth in his living room, spinning his phone in his hands in a way that makes Cas extremely nervous. 

“Do you think it was ingredients or the verbal part?” 

“Dean, I truly don’t know.” 

“Can I touch ‘em?” 

The wings tuck tight against Cas’s back in embarrassment. “How is that going to help?” 

“It’s not, but they look pretty fuckin’ cool.” 

“Sure,” Cas says. “You don’t need permission to touch me.” 

“This is a little outside the purview of our usual touching, so it seemed like a good idea to ask,” Dean says. He approaches in that sure way he always does, like all his attention is zoned in on Cas. Instead of reaching for the wings, he cups Cas’s cheek in his hand and gives him a soft kiss, a startling contrast to the usual heat between them. “We’ll figure this out.” 

“My shirt is ruined,” Cas says. “I can’t afford a whole new wardrobe.” 

Dean snorts. “Only you would be thinking in financials right now.” 

It’s better than sharing the sheer panic Cas is really feeling, so he just musters up a glare. Dean’s still stroking his thumb along Cas’s cheekbone, but he reaches out his other hand and gently lays it on the top of one of the wings. It feels almost like a tickle, but then Dean’s touch strokes up the arch of the wing and then down towards the flight feathers. The wings shiver underneath the touch and then stretch out, like inviting more. 

“Can you feel that?” Dean says, quiet like he’s in awe. 

“Yes.” 

“What does it feel like?” 

“It feels — nice.” 

Suddenly Cas can feel Dean’s magic, his touch  _ glowing  _ and leaving sparks of sensation in its wake. “This is incredible, Cas. I didn’t realize your gift is this strong.” 

“I’m starting to wish it wasn’t.” 

Dean doesn’t say anything in response. His hand moves downwards, burying into the soft down on the inside of the wing, and Cas gasps. It’s the same gasp he makes when Dean wraps a hand around his cock, and it’s clear Dean recognizes it from the way his eyes jerk to Cas’s, hand stilling. 

“Uh,” Dean says, licking his lips. “Feels nice?” 

Cas closes his eyes and flushes hot, but he can’t deny the way the wing stretches towards Dean, pressing into his touch. “Yes,” Cas says in a whisper. 

“I have an idea. Hear me out.” Dean’s fingers tug gently at feathers and Cas shudders, head to wing to toe. “We could fuck before we get rid of them.” 

Cas peeks at him, just a quick dart of his eyes, expecting to see a joke in the curve of Dean’s mouth but not finding it. “We don’t even know  _ how  _ to get rid of them.” 

Dean takes a step closer and suddenly they’re chest to chest, Dean’s arms wrapped around Cas to grip at the arch of each wing. The wings flap, almost violently, knocking over a — thankfully mostly empty — mug on the coffee table. “We can go spell-free. Just raw magic it.” 

“Dean, that’s very dangerous.” 

“You don’t think you can handle it? Cuz I think you can.” 

“I accidentally gave myself wings while using a spell. What makes you —” Dean’s hands tighten a bit on Cas’s wings, and suddenly, he’s very aware of how close they are, how it would take almost nothing to be kissing. Weakly, Cas continues, “What makes you think I can control my gift  _ without  _ a spell?” 

“I’ll be here,” Dean says. “I’m good at this.” 

Cas tilts his chin. Their mouths brush, barely. “We can try.” 

“Can I touch ‘em some more first?” 

Cas nods and their noses bump. He can see Dean’s smile in the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and then Dean kisses him, offering himself with parted lips. Cas deepens the kiss and Dean groans into it, his fingers raking through Cas’s feathers. 

Dean nuzzles against Cas’s jaw, kisses along it, and murmurs, “Am I gonna have to cut you out of this shirt?” 

Cas had forgotten. That’s what Dean’s kisses do to him: make him stupid, make him lose track of everything except Dean. Cas pulls away, just enough to find the two brain cells he has left, and says, “I’m sure I have some scissors around here somewhere.” 

“Nah, I got it,” Dean says, pulling a knife out of his pocket. He guides Cas to turn around, and Cas does his best to be careful with the wings, but he thinks Dean ends up with a faceful of feathers anyway. 

Cas winces at the sound of a blade through cotton. “Why do you have a knife in your pocket?” 

“To cut hot guys out of their shirts when they accidentally give themselves wings,” Dean says as the shredded remains of Cas’s shirt flutter to the floor. 

“A common situation in your life, then.” 

“Absolutely.” Dean’s hands — big and warm and rough — slide up Cas’s back to bury in the feathers at the base of the wings. “You’re the hottest angel of them all, I promise.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“No?” Dean presses up against Cas, hands in his feathers and mouth kissing wetly up the side of his neck. “I can’t call you ‘angel’?” 

“No,” Cas says, firmly. He hopes Dean doesn’t ask why, because the answer is stupid.  _ Angel  _ feels intimate, adoring, but that’s not what they are. 

“All right, sweetheart,” Dean says, which isn’t much better. One of his hands slides around Cas’s belly and then lower, pressing his palm against Cas’s cock, hardening in his jeans. “Mm, you really like having your wings touched.” 

“They aren’t  _ mine,”  _ Cas insists, but it doesn’t stop him from moaning when Dean strokes his fingers through the strong feathers on the backside, black and shining like an oil slick. 

Dean presses a kiss to the soft spot just under Cas’s ear and says, “Let me take you to bed.” 

“It’s my bed,” Cas grumbles, but he pulls away from Dean to lead him down the hallway. He doesn’t know how to control the wings consciously, but they tuck close to fit seemingly on their own. 

Dean follows, a hand resting on one of the wings. Cas feels suddenly cold when the hand falls away in the bedroom, but it’s just for Dean to strip off his own shirt and fumble with his jeans. Part of Cas wants to help, but the part of him that just wants to watch as Dean reveals himself wins out, so he just watches. Watches the softness of Dean’s stomach, the darker pink of his nippes, the broad stretch of his shoulders as his shirt comes off, and then the soft hair below his belly button, the pretty jut of his cock, the bow of his legs as he steps out of his jeans and boxers. 

The first time Cas tried to tell Dean how beautiful he is, Dean rolled his eyes and blushed and said  _ I’m not 25 anymore, man  _ so now Cas just tries to show it in his touch. One of his hands goes to Dean’s hip and the other slides up his chest to cradle his jaw. Just before their mouths touch, Cas is horrified to realize his magic is reaching out, too, aching to skitter across the heat of Dean’s skin. 

“It’s ok,” Dean murmurs, like Cas voiced the fear. “I trust you.” 

“You certainly shouldn’t, considering I have wings.” 

“They’re pretty nice wings, to be fair.” The wings flutter, and Dean grins. “I think they do that when you like something.” 

Cas glances over his shoulder at them. “I don’t know why they do things.” 

“Sure,” Dean says. He reaches up to take Cas’s hand away from his face, weaving their fingers together. There’s a moment of anticipation, and then warmth as Dean’s hand glows golden and his magic flirts against Cas’s. 

As if being drawn out, Cas’s hand glows faintly black. The moment where their magics touch is transcendent, like stars are being born between them, and Cas smiles, and then wider when Dean smiles back. “See?” Dean says. “Not so scary.” 

Before Cas can voice his  _ yes, but,  _ Dean kisses him. This is the kind of kiss Cas is used to with him: hot and open, tongues sliding against each other. Dean’s free hand runs along the smooth-feathered arch of one of Cas’s wings, magic dancing, and Cas moans into the kiss. 

“Ah, shit, you nerd,” Dean says, pulling back from the kiss to reach for Cas’s fly. “You’re not even naked yet.” 

“You’re the one with the knife.” 

“I’m not cutting you out of your best jeans,” Dean says, slithering Cas’s belt from the loops. “Best meaning, the ones you look hottest in.” 

Cas rolls his eyes and hopes Dean mistakes his flush for arousal. “I figured that out, thanks.” 

“Sometimes I’m not sure, Mr. My People Skills Are —” 

Cas shuts him up with a kiss, and it only takes a moment of fumbling for Dean to shove down his jeans and boxers to join Dean’s on the floor. Dean’s magic touches Cas’s cock before his hand does, a strange, hot sensation that makes Cas’s toes curl. And his wings, which circle forward until he and Dean are cocooned close within the feathers. 

“Jesus Christ, Cas,” Dean breathes. “You sure you don’t want to keep ‘em?” 

“I’m very sure,” Cas says, “though this is fun.” 

Cas grabs Dean by the hips and crowds him towards the bed, wings flapping a little, and Dean goes down easy onto the soft mattress. Cas straddles across his thighs and, seeing the lips-parted awe on Dean’s face, glances over his shoulders to find the wings raised high and wide, blocking most of the light. 

Dean starts to sit up but Cas curves down to meet him in a deep kiss, and Dean’s hips give an aborted thrust upward even as he so gently cards his fingers through Cas’s feathers. Cas gasps into Dean’s mouth, and then again when he shifts and their cocks slide against each other.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Dean says. “Lube?” 

Instead of making Cas topple over, the wings flare again as he leans towards the nightstand, holding him steady even as he can practically feel his cock throbbing along with every touch of Dean’s hands in his feathers. 

Cas pours lube in his hand — and on Dean, which they’re still laughing about as Cas takes both of their cocks in his fist and strokes down and back up slow and slick and savoring. “Oh god,” Dean whispers, grabbing hold of Cas’s wings and jerking him back down into a kiss. Cas nearly comes on the spot and says into Dean’s mouth, “Do that again.” 

“This?” Dean says, his grip tightening, pulling, on both wings. 

“Yes, that — that feels —” 

“Nice?” 

“Yes,” Cas says, then kisses Dean hard enough that their teeth clack and they have to pause to laugh again. 

Dean smiles up at him and says, “Tell me what feels good,” then proceeds to shatter Cas trying out different touches on his wings — tickling, gentle, rough, pulling, petting, sizzling with magic — until it takes everything Cas has to keep stroking their cocks while he’s writhing on top of him. 

“You look so gorgeous, sweetheart,” Dean says, and when his arms slide around Cas’s middle to tug at the base of his wings, Cas comes all over both of them, moaning  _ Dean, Dean.  _

When it becomes clear that Cas is completely useless, just shivering with aftershocks, Dean pushes his hand away and strokes his own cock, eyes on Cas’s. Cas watches him, his verdant eyes and plus mouth and pink cheeks, and has the traitorous thought that it would be nice to see Dean in his bed more often — it would be nice if Dean never left. 

Cas doesn’t realize his magic has reached out again until Dean’s eyes widen a bit as he comes, Cas’s hands glowing black against his chest. 

“Sorry,” Cas says, without really meaning it. 

“No, you’re not,” Dean says, calling his bluff as usual. 

Cas leans his forehead against Dean’s as they catch their breath. He should move, but he knows that’ll be the end — they’ll clean up and then not touch again until next time one of them sends some version of a  _ want to come over?  _ text. Cas will spend his lessons struggling to concentrate with Dean so near and glimmering so pretty with magic. 

“All right, darlin’,” Dean says, “the wings are cool, but I’m about to die of heat stroke here.” 

Cas startles. He hadn’t realized the wings had draped over them, dark and, yes, too warm. He climbs out of Dean’s lap and to the floor, stumbling with the weight of wings that suddenly don’t seem inclined to help him balance. Cas manages to keep from falling, but only barely, scowling when Dean huffs a laugh. 

“Laugh it up,” Cas says. “As long as you’ll help me get rid of them.” 

Dean sits up and follows Cas into the bathroom, where the wings scrape against the walls no matter how tight Cas pulls them into his back. Dean starts the sink and, surprisingly, carefully wipes Cas down himself. It should be nothing — perfunctory — but it feels strangely tender, especially when Dean follows it up with a bashful smile. Cas has the urge to do the same for Dean, but before he can reach out, Dean has given himself a quick wipe-down and tossed the washcloth in the hamper. 

They pull their clothes back on and head to the living room in silence. “Can I take a picture?” Dean asks. “I don’t think you’ll want to forget this entirely. They’re really — beautiful, honestly.” 

“Who are you going to show it to?” 

Dean shrugs. “No one, if you don’t want me to.” 

“As long as you don’t show it to everyone so they can laugh.” 

“No one would laugh, Cas,” Dean says. “They’d probably be jealous your gift is strong enough to do something like this, even if it was an accident.” 

Dean pulls out his phone and Cas crosses his arms across his chest self-consciously while Dean snaps a few pictures, front and back. After what seems like way too long, Dean sets his phone on the coffee table and says, “Ok. I’m going to do a spell that you absolutely cannot repeat, got it?” 

“Got it.” 

“And I’m going to borrow your magic, so I need you to just — relax, and let it happen, got it?” 

“Got it.” 

“We should probably sit.” 

Cas sits next to Dean on the couch, staring at him trying to figure out if Dean is as nervous about this as Cas is. If so, he has an excellent poker face. Smiling, he takes Cas’s hands, weaving their fingers together. 

Dean gives a quick squeeze to Cas’s hands, another smile, and whispers a spell Cas doesn’t recognize. Before the last word dies on the air, there’s a flash of gold and then Cas is suddenly filled with it, something powerful and  _ Dean  _ thrumming in his blood and muscle and nerves and mind. 

Cas’s own magic shrinks back from something so huge asking to grasp it, but then Cas looks into Dean’s eyes and relaxes his hold. He can feel his magic stream into Dean’s until it’s enveloped completely. 

“Good,” Dean murmurs, soothing. “Just like that.” 

Cas isn’t entirely sure how he’s even speaking, because Cas couldn’t if he tried, feeling like he’s left his body behind to become nothing but a swirl of magic flowing inside Dean’s. 

And then the lights flash — distantly, Cas hears a lightbulb explode — and the weight on Cas’s back is suddenly lifted. Cas wants to weep with relief and nearly jerks his hands away just to feel his back where the wings had been, just to make sure, but Dean squeezes harder as his magic pulls away from Cas’s slowly like the ebb and flow of a tide receding. The last thing Cas feels before Dean lets go of his hands is a longing so deep it aches all the way to his bones. 

It still takes a few more minutes for Cas to come back completely to his body, to realize Dean is pale and trembling, eyes glazed. “Dean!” Cas says, the fear setting back in again. “Are you ok? You’re not ok.” 

“Settle down, Casanova,” Dean says, giving him a weak smile. “That was just — a lot. Give me a minute to recover.” 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says. He’s thinking about the way sometimes he comes home from his lessons and sleeps the rest of the day away, exhausted from exercising his magic, and it’s nothing like what Dean just did. Cas is still buzzing from the touch of his gift. 

Dean waves a hand at him. “Don’t be. What are friends for?” 

Cas opens his mouth, then shuts it again. He hadn’t entirely realized they were even friends, though he supposes it’s hard to be anything else when you’ve been swallowed up by someone’s gift like that, even if just for a few moments. 

They both lean back on the couch, Dean looking at the ceiling and Cas looking at Dean. “Sorry, uh,” Dean says, “about that thing at the end.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I know you felt it. You don’t have to play dumb for my sake.” Dean’s not smiling anymore. “I know you’re way out of my league, so don’t — you know, don’t worry that I’m getting any ideas or anything.” 

“Ideas?” 

“Really? You’re going to make me say it?” 

“I don’t know what you mean. Truly.”

Dean’s mouth twists and he still won’t look at Cas. “My feelings for you.” 

“Your feelings,” Cas repeats, dumbly. 

“Stop being an asshole.” 

“I’m not. I didn’t know,” Cas says. “How long…?”

Dean shrugs. 

“Are you saying we could’ve been doing more than fucking this whole time?” 

Dean’s eyes jerk to Cas’s, searching. “Yes?” 

Dean still looks a little sickly so Cas doesn’t launch himself at him like he’d like, instead just reaches out to touch his face, leans close to give him a careful kiss. “I didn’t know,” he says, still close enough to see each freckle scattered across Dean’s cheeks. “I didn’t know you wanted that.” 

“Now you do,” Dean says quietly.

Cas kisses him again. He can feel Dean smiling into it. “Let’s get dinner sometime.” 

It’s hard to pull away, but Cas does. He can feel his gift right at the surface and he lets it touch Dean, barely. Dean nuzzles into his palm, his smile growing. “You’re getting good at that,” Dean says. 

“Yes, well,” Cas says, “I have an excellent teacher.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [sharkfish on tumblr](http://sharkfish.tumblr.com)
> 
> [rebloggable tumblr post](https://sharkfish.tumblr.com/post/641131154512216064/on-the-way-down-on-ao3-accidental-wings-rating)
> 
> i'm sorry i'm so terrible at answering comments, but please know that every single one is so precious to me and keeps me going on the rough days. <3 thank you for being here!!


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